The Right Choice
by Mage Myrddin
Summary: The Great Prophecy never had a chance to come true. Percy Jackson never made his choice. Because of one small change, war raged through America for thirteen years. Now that he's lost, Percy will go back and make the right choice. Time travel, redo, fix-it, AU.
1. Chapter 1 - Failure

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Chapter 1 - Failure**

Percy kept his eyes on the ground when he was being dragged off to see Kronos. Not out of fear, or subservience. No, he avoided looking at the Titans surrounding him because if he saw the faces of those that took everything from him, he'd try to kill them.

Atlas, walking to the left and a little in front, had led the massacre of the Hunters while Percy was Hyperion's prisoner. Hyperion, walking behind him, spent six months torturing Percy, and any other demigod who was unlucky enough to be captured. Iapetus holding Percy's right arm and walking level with him, had made it his mission to hunt down any demigod not in one of the well-defended bases of the Last Alliance. It didn't matter to Iapetus that most of the children he hunted were eight years old or less, or that most of them didn't even know they were demigods, or that a sizable portion were children of the minor gods, rather than the Olympians.

The Last Alliance, Percy mused bitterly. A pompous name for a bunch of war-torn survivors. They'd come together, worked together, fought together and died together, because it was the only way to avoid Kronos slaughtering them all.

At first it was just the demigods, the satyrs and Lady Hestia. Then Percy helped kill the small army Kronos sent to the Underworld, but not before Persephone was banished to Tartarus. Lord Hades joined after that. After the fall of Olympus, the Hunters had thought all the demigods were dead. Once they realised that some few had survived, they journeyed to Camp Half-Blood and joined the Alliance. The minor gods were betrayed by Kronos and those who managed to escape joined the Last Alliance. Triton had taken control of Poseidon's army after the Olympians were captured, and held the palace against Oceanus's army for three years, until they were finally overwhelmed and forced to retreat to Camp Half-Blood three years after the Fall of Olympus. Triton and the remnants of Poseidon's army also joined the Last Alliance. Ten years after the Fall of Olympus Percy landed on Ogygia and Calypso joined the Last Alliance. She was the last.

But that didn't matter now, Percy reflected sadly. They had lost. The members of the Last Alliance - the surviving members - were split between the Underworld and Ogygia, using them as strongholds that Kronos couldn't - or just couldn't be bothered to - crush. There was nothing left to be done, no battles they could fight and win. They had lost.

Finally, Percy was thrown down in a cavernous room, his footsteps echoing loudly as he stumbled along. Percy stifled a groan of pain as he hit the floor, pushing himself up and looking at the cause of so much suffering.

The Titan Lord Kronos sat on a great throne of cold, dark stone that seemed to suck all of the light and humour out of the room. He was dressed in Greek garments, and he had chosen to wear Luke's face. Percy gritted his teeth at the sight. How dare he? Luke had turned against him in the end, yet he still wore the heroes face as if to say, I win!

"Percy Jackson, the Leader of the resistance, my Lord, as you requested." Hyperion grovelled from behind Percy. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Requested. Riiight.

"Leave us." The Titan of Time said coldly.

"My Lord, our reward-" Hyperion said nervously but was cut off by Kronos.

"Your reward is me not killing you for letting Jackson escape in the first place, Hyperion. Atlas and Iapetus may have some small reward at a later date. Now leave." What little humour and goodwill there usually was in Kronos's voice had vanished, and the three Titans bowed low before beating a hasty retreat. The doors clanged ominously shut behind them.

Percy looked around, taking stock of the room and all it's occupants. The twelve Olympians were chained to the floor in a semicircle around the room, in the same order that their thrones used to be, if Percy remembered correctly. Zeus and Hera were chained to the floor on either side of Kronos, in the center of the twelve. Kronos was absently petting Hera's hair, as if she were a pet.

The chains that bound the gods, Percy noted, seemed to be made of the same material as Kronos's throne. Percy had the uneasy feeling that those chains were suppressing the gods powers somehow.

The gods themselves looked awful. All of them were bleeding and their clothes were little more than rags. Apollo was probably best off, and Zeus, Poseidon and Hermes definitely looked the worst. Percy guessed that Kronos took out his anger on the Olympians. Hermes because Luke betrayed him, Poseidon because Percy fought him, and Zeus because he used to be king of the gods. All had slumped shoulders, looking tired, defeated, hopeless. Broken.

Kronos regarded the Hero who stood defiantly before him. Percy Jackson was still a figure who defied any kind of authority, and had the strength to back up his disobedience. Despite fighting a hopeless war for thirteen years, despite watching friend after friend die around him, despite spending six months being tortured by Hyperion and, on occasion, Kronos himself, the demigod still found the will to stand tall and fight another hopeless battle.

Percy's hands were cuffed, blood leaking from his wrists where the sharp metal dug into his skin. Scars too numerous to count littered his body, some from torture, most from his many battles. Various small wounds, fairly recent, had broken open, leaving small traces of blood to make their way down Percy's body like red tears. The grey streak Percy acquired in his hair had turned a pure, brilliant white during his imprisonment, but his hair was now so filthy that the matted strands appeared black. Percy's clothing, like the gods, were little better than rags. When he looked at Kronos, though, his eyes were as bright as ever.

Percy's eyes were currently resting on the father he hadn't seen in thirteen years. Poseidon met his son's gaze and Percy knew he would be able to read the emotions there. Guilt, for not making the choice when he had the chance, resulting in the Fall of Olympus and for failing to save the gods in the years that followed; relief that they hadn't faded, even if it might be easier for them if they had; sadness and defeat, because Percy couldn't see a way out this time, he couldn't see a way to save them.

A ghost of a smile flitted over Poseidon's features and his eyes showed worry and ... pride? Percy couldn't dwell on that any longer, as Kronos's voice pulled him back to the present.

"Percy Jackson." He rolled the name over his tongue. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough." Percy spat, glaring daggers at the immortal being.

Kronos tutted. "Now, now, Percy, is that any way to speak to your betters?"

Percy glowered for a moment before smiling disarmingly. "I wouldn't know." He said sweetly. "I've never met any."

Kronos stared in shocked disbelief for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed humourlessly. "You haven't changed at all, I see." He glared at Percy coldly. "And here I thought that wearing this face might remind you that I can't be beaten."

"Or that you can be beaten." Percy said quietly. "After all Luke beat you, if only for a little while."

A quiet gasp caught Percy's attention and he looked towards the sound. Hermes was looking at Percy, his expression stunned and his gaze hopeful. Percy felt his anger begin to rise at the sight. He turned back to Kronos and gave the Titan Lord his best death glare.

"You didn't tell him, did you? You didn't tell him about how Luke was almost the end of you, how a mere, mortal hero was able to hold you at bay." Anger made Percy's eyes darken like the sea before a storm.

"Luke betrayed you!" Kronos yelled.

"He made a mistake!" Percy roared. "And he paid for it with his life." Water swirled around him and the cuffs snapped.

"What does it matter? I won in the end." Kronos said.

"It matters. Don't you see? Luke took control of his body and asked my to give him the knife so he could stop you by killing himself. That was my choice, only I never got the chance to make it. One of the wind gods who was defending Olympus from the air got thrown through the roof of the throne room, the distraction was all you needed to take control again and burn up Luke's body so you couldn't be killed. We almost destroyed you, and we couldn't have done it without Luke. That's why it matters. He beat you, for his family."

Kronos snorted. "Family. As if that matters. My sons tossed me into Tartarus."

"You ate them!" Percy said exasperated.

"And look where that got me." Kronos spread his arms. "I've got everything I want."

"It got you in Tartarus for two thousand years." Percy muttered.

Kronos's eyes narrowed dangerously and he stopped time around the demigod. Before Percy could break free from Kronos's power, the Titan causally strolled over to Percy and backhanded him across the room. "You should learn respect." He rumbled.

Percy gasped harshly as he lay on the floor. His ribs definitely felt broken, and his left shoulder was dislocated. In the corner of his eye he saw Kronos summon his scythe and saunter towards him.

"Thirteen years. You spent thirteen years fighting me, and what do you have to show for it? Tell me Perseus, was it worth it?"

"Yes." Percy said quietly, his voice hoarse from pain. "It was worth it."

"Why? Why would you keep fighting as friend after friend dies around you." Kronos sounded like he actually cared about the answer.

"Because ... we had to try. We had to at least try to save innocents, and rescue gods. We had to try to make things ... the way they should have been."

"The way they should have been." Kronos snorted. "You led us here! You might not have made the choice, but you could have done something differently to save them all. Except you didn't." Kronos's voice went quieter here, gloating. "You failed."

"Maybe I did fail. Maybe I did get everything wrong. But I like to think that I learned from my mistakes. I certainly enjoyed blowing up your fortress when I left Hyperion's tender care." Percy said spitefully.

Kronos glared frostily at him before swinging his scythe over his head and straight down into Percy's stomach, the tip embedding itself in the floor. Percy's back arched in agony, but he stubbornly refused to scream.

"You haven't achieved anything, Perseus. You have thrown your friends lives," Kronos cruelly twisted the scythe, and Percy screamed as it sent waves of unimaginable pain through him. "Your life, away for nothing. Once Olympus fell, you were never going to win. You were only drawing out the inevitable." Kronos stopped twisting the scythe, and Percy shuddered.

"You haven't achieved anything, Percy Jackson." Kronos said, his face impassive. "In a hundred years, what will there be left of you? You might as well have never existed. Nothing will change. I will still rule, and everyone you care about will still be dead." Kronos twisted the scythe even further, and Percy screamed in agony again.

Kronos lifted the scythe free and the only sound in the room was Percy's harsh breaths as he tried to control the pain. His hands moved to cover the wound that was spilling his lifeblood on the floor. "You're going to die, Percy Jackson. You're going to die knowing that you've failed, that you can never win. And when you're gone, I'll attack the Underworld with my full might and crush them. I heard you and Triton get along nowadays. I think I'll give him to Hyperion, for old times sake." Kronos sat back down on his throne.

Percy ground his teeth together, feeling a tide of helpless anger rising in him. If he were capable of fighting right now, he could use the anger to attack Kronos, but he was too weak. He doubted he'd be able to stand, let alone fight. There was nothing he could do. Unless he ...

Percy's eyes slid closed and he mentally reached out for all the water in the vicinity. The moisture in the air, the pipes in the walls, and the sea inside him began to stir at his call. Triton never could work out how Percy still had his powers after Oceanus took control of the seas.

Water began to swirl around him. His clothes, such as they were, quickly became soaked and several of the small cuts on his body began to heal. Water washed away some of the grime from his hair, and the white streak shone.

"Jackson?" Kronos said, suddenly alert as he noticed power gathering. "What are you doing?"

Percy ignored him. Small waves lapped the space around him and droplets of water were suspended unnaturally above him, as though Percy's call meant more to the water than the laws of Natural Order, that even gods must abide by.

Kronos's eyes widened as he understood what the demigod was trying to do. "No! Jackson, STOP!" He yelled, but Percy seemed to be in a world of his own. The waves circling the Son of Poseidon got bigger and choppier, and the earth began to shake.

"Percy, I know how you can stop this from ever happening. I swear on the River Styx I'll help you change it all, just STOP!" Kronos yelled desperately.

Percy gave no outward sign that he'd even heard Kronos's rash promise, but the earth paused in it's shaking and the water held still, so still that it could have been glass, or ice. Kronos took that as permission to continue speaking.

"I'm the Lord of Time. When you die, I can stop your soul from going to Hade's realm and send it backwards instead, to when you first began to realise what you were. You'd still have all your knowledge and experience, you'd just look like a twelve-year-old. Because you'd be a different person in the past, the universes would split in order to avoid a paradox. You could save that world, and I would keep this one. Everyone wins."

"It wouldn't be the same." Percy said quietly.

"It would be, though." Kronos said excitedly. "That's the genius of it. It would be exactly as it was the first time round, except for you. Even that version of me wouldn't know that you'd been sent back."

"But you'll still rule this world." Percy insisted stubbornly.

"What does it matter? You'll be able to save the gods; and not just copies of them, either. That universe will be as real as this one, Percy. You'll just be able to protect it better."

"Perseus." A voice interceded. The ex-king of the gods had spoken, and Percy twisted his head around to look at the Lord of the Skies. To his surprise, he saw none of the arrogance, selfishness or pride that used to define Zeus. Even more shocking was that the emotions he expected to see - grief, pain, bitterness and regret - were also absent. The only emotions showing on Zeus's face was kindness, encouragement, sadness and ... forgiveness. Percy swallowed hard at the implications of that and averted his eyes. "You are leading the resistance in my absence, yes?" Percy met his eyes and nodded hesitantly.

"Then, as your superior I order you to accept this offer of my fathers'." Percy's eyes widened in disbelief and his mouth curled down at the corners. Before he could argue Zeus carried on speaking. "He swore on the Styx Perseus, he's telling the truth. There's nothing left for you here." Percy's jaw set stubbornly and Zeus internally sighed. Damn his nephew's disobedient streak, no matter how long it had kept the hero fighting.

Athena spoke up. "If you do go back Perseus, make sure my daughter survives." Percy stared at Athena helplessly and for the first time in years, Zeus felt a smile tug at his lips. Perseus wouldn't be able to resist going back in time now, his loyalty to his friends and the girl he loved was too strong. They really didn't give Athena enough credit, he mused. She could be downright manipulative when she wanted to be.

Percy sighed and nodded uncertainly. "I'll go."

Kronos started muttering in Ancient Greek under his breath as he made it possible for Percy to relive his life. Percy began to glow gold as Kronos invoked his power over time, and once he finished the odd light sank into Percy's skin. With a flick of his fingers he sent the demigod flying across the room, only to land painfully next to Poseidon.

"I estimate you have ten minutes before you die and your soul goes back in time." He smirked. "Enjoy your trip." He slipped out of the throne room quietly, whistling a merry tune under his breath.

Poseidon reached out gently and carefully pulled Percy into his lap, careful of his son's wound. Percy's eyes fluttered open and he tried to speak, the words coming out as a harsh whisper instead. "I'm sorry ... I couldn't save you. I should have done - something ..."

"It's okay." Poseidon whispered back. "It isn't your fault, you were interrupted before you could make the choice. The prophecy was never completed. You couldn't have known."

"Ignorance isn't an excuse. It was my Fate, my responsibility, and I somehow managed to screw it up." Percy insisted fiercely.

"Something happened that was never supposed to, that isn't your fault." Poseidon disagreed.

"It is my fault." Percy whispered brokenly. "All those lives are on me."

"No, they aren't." Poseidon said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. "Percy, look at me." When Percy met his gaze, he continued talking. "I don't blame you for what happened. Don't look at me like that." Poseidon added, seeing the clear disbelief in his son's gaze. "It's the truth. I don't blame you, none of us do."

Percy saw the sincerity in Poseidon's words and his eyes softened a little. He nodded a little in acceptance and gasped in pain when the movement pulled on his wound. Percy's eyes slid shut, exhaustion and blood loss finally taking their toll.

Poseidon's heart skipped at seeing his son look so pale, so ... lifeless.

Knowing that his son would soon be gone forever, Poseidon reached out and stroked his son's face, the way you would a small child who needed comforting. Percy smiled softly at the father he no longer had the strength to see, reaching out blindly for Poseidon's hand, only to encounter the smooth cold of metal instead. Percy shuddered at the feel of the chains that bound the gods; they seemed to suck the energy, the life, out of everything they touched. To be chained in these for years ...

"What are these?" Percy asked softly, knowing Poseidon would understand what he meant.

"Chains designed to drain the majority of our power away. Keeps us too weak to fight against it." Poseidon said dully.

"But it can be fought?" Percy said, an idea ticking away at the back of his mind.

"Yes." Poseidon said. "What are you planning?"

"If I channelled all my power through the chains." Percy began, "As if I was about to blow this place up, could I break them?"

"Maybe." Poseidon said, heart in his throat. "But the effort will probably kill you."

Percy smiled crookedly up at Poseidon, opening his eyes with effort. "I don't think that's a problem. What about the other gods, if I shatter your chains?"

"They were all made at the same time, in the same fire, from the same metal. Think of the different chains as bees in a hive - parts of a whole. Only in this hive, you kill one, you kill all." Poseidon whispered.

Wrapping his right hand around the chains, Percy called on his powers for the second time that day. As he did so, his left hand plunged into a well-hidden pocket and pulled out a single drachma and a pre-written note, which he pressed into his father's hands. Poseidon's eyes widened and he hid the drachma and the note as best he could, in case Kronos returned unexpectedly.

Percy focused on the sea as he did whenever he controlled the water, but instead of pushing that power outwards to manipulate whatever water was nearby, he pushed it into his hands, both of which were now wrapped around the chain. The metal was cool in his hands, but the chain felt unpleasantly like it was wriggling to get away.

The son of Poseidon pulled more and more of the sea through him, until it felt like he was about to burn up from the sheer power of it. He could see he was glowing, even through closed eyelids. It was similar to the light when the gods teleport. He wondered if they were related, and then felt vaguely worried. He was only mortal, and that light incinerated mortals.

Percy felt the power in his hands, felt his control slipping, and pushed the power out as hard as he could, into the chains. FLA-BOOM, the might of the sea rushed out with the force of a tsunami, and just as destructive although concentrated on one specific thing.

Despite the sheer power that was being unleashed, Percy could feel the movement of the chains, could feel that they were still in a way, alive. Grimly determined to finally succeed, the demigod pushed everything he had into freeing the gods.

Poseidon watched the amount of power his son had managed to call and control with pride, and more than a little worry. Poseidon knew that Percy would go back when he died, but whether Percy was dead in the world or alive in another, the result was the same. He wouldn't be able to see his son again. Poseidon rested his hand over the slowing heart of his dying son.

A loud cracking noise split the air and they stared in disbelief and hope at the cracks spider webbing their way along the manacles. With a final sort of shattering sound, the once-ominous and life-sucking material broke apart forcefully, the pieces flying away like shrapnel. Very sharp shrapnel. Some dug into Poseidon, some shot up only to clatter harmlessly to the floor, but most burrowed into Percy. One sliced open an artery in his neck. All Percy was aware of was the chains cracking, then spots of pain as the shrapnel hit him, and finally the sensation of blood pouring out of his neck at an alarming rate before his heart finally stopped. His final thought went something along the lines of, 'Now who got the last laugh. Ha!'

Then he woke up somewhere - _somewhen_ \- entirely different.

* * *

 **This used to be two chapters, but the second was really short so I made it into one when I went back to get rid of a couple mistakes. Easier that way.**

 **Enjoy, Shib. :)**


	2. Chapter 2 - Familiar Ground

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Chapter 3 - Familiar Ground**

My eyes snapped open, my heart beating furiously and my head spinning. My left hand, the free one, shot up to cover my neck where only moments ago blood had been pouring out, only to find smooth, unblemished skin. I looked down at my right hand, the one that seemed to be full, only to see a Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology. I stared at the book in confusion. Had it worked? If so, where was I? When was I?

"Let's just worry about keeping him alive until next fall-" A familiar voice said. My mind ground to a halt in shock, and the book fell out of my hand. It couldn't be ...

A loud thump rang through the hallway as the book hit the floor. I just stared at it blankly, working through the implications.

It could be that he was here, if I'd really gone back in time. He was dead in my world, but none of that had ever happened now, at least not yet. I could change everything.

The bar of light on the floor increased as someone started pushing it open. I mentally cursed, slipping back into the shadows and disappearing down the corridor. No time to pick the book up; I'd be seen. Grover would undoubtedly recognise the book as mine, and they would assume I'd dropped it because I'd overheard a rather interesting conversation, rather than because I travelled back in time and was shocked upon hearing the voices of long-dead friends.

Now that Chiron knew I was aware of at least part of my heritage, unlike last time, he would try to get me to Camp as soon as possible. That meant he would try to find me soon, to stop me from doing anything stupid, like running away into monster-infested New York with new knowledge of my parentage. Unfortunately, I wasn't ready to talk to them - to anyone - yet. I had to make a plan first, and I had to make sure I could remember as much as possible about what happened when I was twelve. Not just so I could prevent the bad stuff, but so I could pass myself off as a twelve year old, rather than someone who fought a war for thirteen years with a surprising amount of success. Usually once one side of a war has gained the upper hand, the other is obliterated within a few months, or maybe a couple years. The fact that we'd lasted for as long as we did was a bloody miracle.

I wandered through the dark halls, reacquainting myself with the classrooms and lockers; it would be odd if I woke up one day with no idea where everything is. Eventually, I found myself on the roof. It was technically off limits, but I never cared for rules, and no-one ever checks up here.

I sat down heavily on the wet stone and sighed. This was going to be difficult; Zeus was still an asshole at this point so he'd probably incinerate me as soon as I mentioned Kronos sending me back in time and before I could explain why, meaning I couldn't tell the gods. Chiron was going to be a pain - he'd trained enough demigods to be really, really good at knowing when they were lying to him. Not to mention the little problem of my memories of everybody dying. I'm pretty sure I have what mortals call PTSD or something, judging by my constant nightmares and occasional flashbacks. I didn't even want to know what being back in a Camp that wasn't filled with silent, grim-faced children would do to me.

By now Chiron and Grover would know that I'd overheard them and would be looking for me. Why had I been there last time? Thirteen years of war and four years of quests equals an eventful life, and I'd long ago tried my hardest to stop thinking about the past. It hurt too much.

If I remember correctly, I was about to ask Chiron for help studying when I heard Grover talking to him about me and stayed to hear the rest of the conversation. That excuse would hold up this time as well, and since it was technically true, I wouldn't even need to lie to Chiron.

I ignored the pang in my chest when I thought about lying to Chiron. Chances were I was going to have to lie to everyone, Chiron included, if I wanted to stop Kronos without giving Zeus a reason to incinerate me. The fact that he had been one of my closest friends and the last time I saw him he was dying was neither here nor there.

Chiron was only immortal so long as he was needed to train new demigods. When most of them had been killed off, with no new ones to take their place, he wasn't needed anymore.

Chiron and I had ventured out into the mortal world to search for supplies that Camp desperately needed. Here's an interesting fact you never knew about the food conjured by the gods; it looks, tastes and fills you up the same as real food, but it doesn't have any nutrients in it, so it can't truly sustain someone. Anyway, we tried to get back to Camp as quickly as possible, but Iapetus found us first.

Iapetus was given the task of hunting down any demigod or friend of the Last Alliance who was outside the protection of one of our bases - Camp Half-Blood, the Underworld, or Ogygia - and either killing or capturing them. He was very good at his job, and he used lies and tricks to lure us out of Camp and capture us as often as he simply waited for us to run low on something we desperately needed to survive.

He caught up with us, and the fight that followed was devastating. The monsters with him didn't bother to attack us directly, instead maiming and killing innocent bystanders. Kronos had known that we would try to help innocents, had counted on using it to distract us, and had passed the information onto Iapetus to use as he wished. And distract us it did. It became a very effective tactic.

Chiron died in that battle, but between the two of us, he might have gotten the better deal. After he died, instead of hiding and making my way back to Camp like I should've, I took out all my anger on the monsters who hunted us. I fought and killed huge numbers of the enemy as more reinforcements kept on pouring in, until finally Iapetus captured me a few hours after Chiron's death.

Rationally, I'd known at the time that going after those who'd killed my friend was a massively stupid idea and would almost certainly lead to my capture or death, but after losing so many people, I didn't care. I would've been glad if they killed me, because it would be over, and I wouldn't have to watch anyone else die. After the Fall of Olympus, I became the de facto leader of not just Camp Half-Blood, but the Last Alliance as well. The other factions made the day-to-day decisions for themselves, but when they weren't sure what to do, they looked to me.

Chiron was my friend through all of that. I relied upon him and trusted him completely. He helped stop me from making mistakes, he helped me carry on when I gave someone an order that got them killed. When I was angry because someone close to me had died and I couldn't stop it, he was the one I ranted to. Losing him was almost as devastating as losing Annabeth, in a very different way. It was the final straw for me.

The six months that followed were the most physically painful of my life. Being at Hyperion's mercy, such as it was, wasn't pleasant.

I shuddered slightly and tried to think of something else. Those memories were not going to help me now.

How was I going to defeat Kronos this time? I couldn't reveal too much of my past, if anything. I couldn't tell anyone in Camp for fear one of Kronos's spies would hear something they shouldn't. If they did, then Kronos would know of my jaunt through time within hours and I'd lose my biggest advantage - foreknowledge. Not to mention that the gods were all stalkers, and if Zeus overheard me telling someone that Kronos had sent me back in time I would be incinerated for working with the enemy.

So, if telling everyone about my rather unusual history was a spectacularly bad idea, I should probably keep it secret. That meant I wouldn't be able to tell everyone about Kronos's plot to spark WWIII straight away. Instead I'd have to pretend not to know anything until enough things had happened that meant I would realistically be able to figure it out. Bearing in mind that I was twelve now, and sons of Poseidon weren't the brightest anyway, and I would probably be forced to wait until the answer damn near slapped me in the face.

Unfortunately, the chances of me reaching sixteen without someone being suspicious of my remarkably good luck (A.K.A. foreknowledge) were beyond slim. I was a good fighter, too good for someone with no training, and I reckon Poseidon, at least, would notice my nightmares. What plausible reason did a twelve-year-old have for suffering nightmares that woke them up either screaming or crying?

Assuming I managed to keep my past a secret, what about the Battle of Olympus itself? Many, many demigods died even before I made my choice, and that isn't even counting those in the Battle of the Labyrinth, or those who died on quests with me. Having foreknowledge wouldn't let me change Fate, it would find a way to happen anyway. Could I watch my friends die again, knowing that it was inevitable?

If I wanted to destroy Kronos, I was going to need as many allies as possible, and the Last Alliance was good for that, at least. Problem was, how could I convince them all to work together? The only reason they got on as well as they did after the Olympians were captured was because to do otherwise meant death. Without the same desperate circumstances, they wouldn't want to work together.

Hestia, I could talk to at Camp; Hades, I could give his helmet earlier and not accuse him of being a thief; the Hunters would help without prompting; Camp and the Satyrs by extension would follow my lead as the child of the Great Prophecy; Calypso, I could talk to when I landed on Ogygia; that just left Triton and the minor gods.

Triton, while a jerk to me when I first met him, turned out to be a good person who was almost as loyal as me. I just had no idea how I was supposed to get him to work with me long enough to like me.

As for the minor gods, I had no real reason to be around them long enough to subtly influence them to help me rather than Kronos. Maybe an opportunity would just jump up and hit me?

I thought back to my final moments in the other timeline. I'd broken the chains binding the Olympians. If Poseidon followed the instructions on the piece of paper I'd given him, they should be safely away from Kronos's fortress by now. Maybe they'd be able to topple Kronos off of his throne without my help, but maybe not. There had to be a way to travel back and forth between worlds, and I was sure I could find it given time. I could go back and help them once I'd saved this world.

Athena asked me to try and keep Annabeth alive, I remembered with a jolt. I chewed my lip uncertainly. Annabeth died on my sixteenth birthday after I should've made my choice. If I made it right this time, then Annabeth wouldn't die. But ...

But just hearing Chiron's voice was enough to make memories hit me like a bag of bricks. Just his voice. How much more would seeing Annabeth again affect me? All the guilt that I'd let her die, that I'd left her to die, would come rushing back to me. And there was no guarantee that she'd survive this time. What if I made a tiny mistake, changed one small thing that resulted in her death? I didn't want to fail again.

I'd loved Annabeth, once. I'd also long since moved on. The love I'd felt for her had faded with time, although I'd never loved anyone in exactly the same way again. The only emotions I now felt towards Annabeth were guilt and regret. I wouldn't - couldn't - love her again in this life, not when some part of me would always compare her to the Annabeth I'd lost. It wouldn't be fair to either of us.

So in this timeline I would stay away from her. If we were never friends, she wouldn't have insisted on coming into the throne room with me and therefore wouldn't die, weather I succeeded or not.

It follows then, that when Luke goes to Annabeth and offers to run away with her she would accept because she won't have been listening to my rants about how evil he is. If Luke ran away with Annabeth then he wouldn't be Kronos's host. Probably Ethan would in his place. I wonder if Kronos's Achilles heel would be in the same place if Ethan was his host instead?

So if Annabeth wasn't going to come with me on quests, who would? I doubt I would get away with going on my own when I'm supposed to be an inexperienced demigod.

Clarisse would probably be a good choice, especially since being her friend might get me invited to the Sea of Monsters quest without the need to sneak off. She was good in a fight and reliable when she decided you were worth it.

Who else would I take? Grover probably wouldn't need or want to come since I had no intention of letting the satyr be knocked unconscious or my mom kidnapped, meaning the council would grant him his searcher's licence. I could take Chris, or Beckendorf, or Silena ... the choice didn't have to be made now; as long as I did my best to make friends from all cabins, I could invite anyone I want.

I heard the door open on the other side of the roof and I hurriedly shelved those thoughts, preparing myself mentally for the coming conversation as much as I could. I twisted around to face Chiron - or Mr Brunner as he was known when in disguise - as he rounded the corner in his wheelchair. How he got it up here, I've no idea.

"Mr Jackson?" He asked kindly, if cautiously. I recognised it as his 'trust me' face.

"What?" I asked, a little aggressively. A small voice in the back of my mind had started screaming in panic and denial when Chiron first spoke, saying that I couldn't possibly get away with lying to him and he'd know I wasn't the same anymore just by looking at me. I ignored it, going over the things I could tell him in my mind, making sure I wouldn't let anything slip.

"How much did you hear?" He asked. I debated for a moment of what to say, before I went with the same thing I said to Grover when he asked me the same question years ago.

"Not much." I fiddled with my sleeves, ADHD kicking in. "What's the summer solstice deadline?" I was mildly impressed that my voice didn't shake at all, betraying none of my inner panic.

Chiron sighed a little. "Unimportant right now."

I looked up at him from my position slouched on the floor, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Was it unimportant when you were talking about keeping me alive, as well?"

The very old centaur watched my little outburst with an impassive face, but I could tell he was a little taken aback by my anger. Apparently normal children went into shock when hearing about something like this, rather than blowing up in someone else's face. Oops.

"Percy, the more you know, the more danger you'll be in." Chiron tried, but I wasn't having any of it. My fragile grip on my emotions failed when I stopped planning everything rationally. Now, I was angry, and I needed to let it out. If I had to yell at Chiron for keeping things from me rather than for dying on me, then so be it.

"Oh, and I suppose that's why you were talking about keeping me alive when I knew _absolutely nothing._ " I cut him off, shooting onto my feet and standing a meter in front of him. "Because I wasn't in danger."

"I didn't say you weren't in danger." Chiron said calmly, the perfect example of 'unbothered'. "I said you would be in more danger if you knew more than you do now."

Chiron's façade was calm and unbothered, but a façade was just a mask and I knew that for some reason he was at least a little unnerved. "Why?" I asked. "What danger?"

Chiron didn't say anything, but let his eyes flick to the left, watching something over my shoulder. I turned, not sure what I expected to see but vaguely hopeful it was something I would be allowed to punch.

Instead, I saw a wall of water, about chest height, hovering as threateningly as water could and bubbling dangerously. I stared, shocked. That was not supposed to be possible. Not at twelve, not so soon after supposedly discovering my heritage.

My shock broke the apparently unconscious control I had over the water, and it collapsed as though giant invisible hands had been holding it in place and now they were gone. I automatically brought my hand up to shield myself from the spray and was further surprised when the water split to either side around me, leaving me bone dry, and by extension Chiron, who was right behind me. I just stood there without moving for a second. Even when I was at my angriest and most emotional, the most I'd ever done was soak Nancy Bobofit (One of the few memories I still looked upon with a modicum of fondness). I had never been able to manipulate water to behave unnaturally for longer than a few seconds without being aware of what I was doing, even when I was emotional and more prone to losing control. I had always had to think about moving water, until now.

I turned back to look at Chiron, my expression undoubtedly a little lost. "I don't understand."

Unfortunately, that wasn't a lie.

Chiron sighed. "Let's go to my office. It appears informing you of the basics would be best."

* * *

 **It's a fairly long chapter. Not massive, but you get a glimpse of Percy's plans and emotions. Of course, since when does everything go to plan for Percy, even a Percy that fought a war?**

 **I am truly sorry for not updating sooner. I already had everything written out. It's just so** ** _boring_** **to copy from a paper pad to the computer, especially when you're rubbish at typing.**

 **Enjoy, Shib. :)**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Fates

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Chapter 3 - The Fates**

I followed Chiron down the halls of Yancy towards his office, pondering what happened on the roof. The water shouldn't have acted like that just because I was angry, it should take more effort. Even when I lost control, I was still aware that I was affecting the water. Today I hadn't even noticed.

Grover was still in Chiron's office, fidgeting uncomfortably. I guess Chiron kept him there to corroborate his story about the Greek gods. I sat patiently as Chiron explained the west and my role in mythology to me, expressing (hopefully) convincing disbelief whenever he said something particularly insane. I asked the usual questions here and there using my memories as a guide, after Chiron explained that he was a centaur and Grover a satyr. Unsurprisingly, the trainer of Heroes didn't tell me about the summer solstice deadline when I asked. Oh well, it wasn't like I didn't already know.

I knew that I didn't want anyone to figure out my little jaunt through time when it could result in Zeus incinerating me, but just because I didn't tell someone didn't mean that someone was going to figure it out. Chiron had trained demigods for centuries, he'd probably notice that I wasn't normal pretty quickly if I wasn't very, very careful, although in that respect I have an advantage since I know him and anyway, it wasn't like me being unusual was going to make him jump to the conclusion that I had travelled through time. The Fates, however, might already know, if my string had changed due to my temporal displacement. My one consolation there was that they never told anyone anything useful, they were far more likely to sit on the information and see what I would do than go blabbing to Zeus. Hades also might be able to figure it out because I died in Kronos's throne room, and I had no idea if he would be able to tell.

Other than that, satyrs could sense my emotions and might find it odd if I start feeling like I'm home again when I lay eyes on Camp for the (supposedly) first time, and Poseidon would probably notice my nightmares and wonder what caused them. Neither of those events on their own were particularly likely to lead to them figuring out my admittedly convoluted past, however, and so were of less concern.

Right on cue, I asked a question about demigods that sent Chiron into another round of explanations. His brief summary of the cabin system - and the unclaimed - revealed another problem to me.

If I was claimed during capture the flag like last time, I would be spending a week or so in Hermes cabin before that. They were going to notice my nightmares, and they'd probably tell Chiron, who would have questions for me. Something I wanted to avoid if at all possible. I placed the problem in the back of my mind, to be dealt with later. My head was spinning with everything that I had seen and thought of today. Frankly it was a miracle I hadn't snapped and started screaming at the sky or something equally stupid and pointless. I was beginning to feel like someone had stuffed cotton wool through my ears and into my head, so I set everything aside to be dealt with later.

Before long, all the questions I should have had as a newly informed demigod had been asked and answered, and Chiron stood out of his wheelchair to signal that he'd said all he was going to. He looked at me seriously before I had the chance to bolt. "Percy, I will need to talk to your mother about you attending camp, so I'll be travelling with you when term ends. Until then, get some rest. You have finals tomorrow." He held the door open in a clear dismissal and I walked out.

I made my way back to the dorm in a daze. It was surreal to be back here, it sort of felt like a demigod dream, but even those dreams weren't as realistic as this. I could feel the cool air moving against my skin, the pressure of my feet against the floor, the fabric of my shirt pressing against my skin. It was too real to be a trick or a trap or a dream. I was really here, seventeen years ago.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. No scars, no marks, no white streak in my hair ... just blank. An unpainted canvas. A clean slate. I was a child again, with my whole life ahead of me, and I was going to live it. I was going to destroy Kronos, and I was going to be the most cheeky, impudent, disobedient and disrespectful brat possible while doing so.

Because that was my strength. To play the fool to the world, to be so irritating everyone believed I would be killed in a week, to be underestimated. Hugely underestimated.

Besides, I owe Kronos a little payback for what he will try to inflict on this world. He will pay in anger and frustration. I will irritate him beyond belief, to the point where he is trying to tear his hair out. And it will help me beat him.

Because angry people make mistakes.

I smiled into the mirror, my old crooked smile, the one I hadn't had a reason to use in years. Only now, there was an edge to it, a hint of mischievousness that promised trouble.

* * *

I went through the next day in even more of a daze than last night. It had been so long since I was in Yancy that I almost got lost several times, even with the aid of my midnight wander the night before. I also had trouble remembering the names of most of the other students and teachers, with the exception of Grover, Chiron who was called Mr Brunner in school, and Nancy Bobofit.

I had trouble trying to dumb my answers down when it came to exams, especially Latin. I'd managed to scrape decent school grades in all my exams up until my sixteenth birthday, and I hadn't stopped learning just because Olympus fell and Kronos was out for my blood. This meant that no matter how hard I found tests when I was actually twelve, they seemed pathetically easy now. As I wasn't sure what my answers were originally, I probably did better than was really reasonable.

I heard Chiron calling me after my three hour Latin exam, but I pretended I didn't notice. I didn't need to be told I didn't belong at Yancy, again. No matter how true it was.

At the end of term I packed my bags, idly listening to the conversation flowing around me. I vaguely remembered being a bit bitter that they were rich juvenile delinquents while I was a nobody from a family of nobodies last time I heard all this fuss about cruises and camping trips. Now I had to stifle a snort at the idea. Nobodies indeed.

Chiron and I took the same Greyhound into the city, him under the excuse that he needed to talk to my mother. While he probably wasn't lying, he was also making sure that no monster killed me when I was unprotected, judging by the way his eyes kept taking in possible exits and threats. I sat on the edge of my seat, a little nervous. If things go the same way as last time, the bus would break down and I would see the fates. Did they know of my trip through time? If so, would they tell?

"Mr Brunner, what are Kindly Ones?" I asked, remembering that I didn't 'know' about them yet.

"Mrs Dodds was a Kindly One." Chiron said solemnly. "I'd tell you their names, but true names have power and I don't wish to call them here. Can you remember who, or rather what, the Lord of the Dead's enforcers are?"

I nodded mutely, trying to look as scared as possible. I should look into acting lessons, they could only help someone in my situation and my lying skills leave something to be desired.

Just then smoke started pouring from the dashboard and the bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The greyhound limped to the edge of the highway and the doors opened. "Out! Everyone out!" The driver called. We all filed onto the road and the driver started messing around in the bonnet, trying to fix whatever went wrong. I looked around for the three old ladies I knew were here and caught sight of them on the other side of the road. They were sat at a fruit stand looking at me piercingly, holding a rolled-up ball of electric-blue string which was linked to a pair of giant blue socks. The massive scissors were out, but weren't being held at the string. Interesting. They must know that something's different, or they would have done exactly the same thing as before.

Suddenly, I felt the burning desire to walk over to them. I took a step forward before Chiron grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He was gazing at the Fates sorrowfully, his face pale and sad. I gasped and hunched ever a little as I felt the yearning to go and talk to them increase.

"Mr Jackson, what's wrong?" Asked Chiron.

"I have to go over there." I said, taking another step towards them and ignoring Chiron's grip on my arm.

"Mr Jackson, I do not think that is a good idea." Chiron said, his grip on my arm not slackening even when I tried to pull away.

"Neither do I, but apparently I don't get a say." I pressed a hand to my head as the urge to go towards the Fates increased.

Chiron sighed sadly. "They are calling you." I nodded. "Yep. What are they?" I asked, playing up to my image of clueless new demigod.

"They are the Fates, child." Chiron let go of my arm, and I staggered a little from the sudden lack of pressure. "Please try not to antagonise them. They aren't likely to incinerate you, but they can make your life much more difficult." I nodded distractedly back at him as I made my way across the highway, ignoring the occasional beep I got for walking out into the road.

I stopped about a meter away from the fruit stand, watching the Fates silently as they examined me. "Percy Jackson." They said in unison. "Your arrival has greatly changed what might be, and also ... what has been, though in what way, it is hard to tell."

I cursed internally, my eyes flicking up towards the sky as if I would be able to see weather or not any of the gods are listening. Their laugh was gravelly as they noticed my panic. "Not to fear, Percy Jackson. Your past is your own, and no other may be privy to our conversation."

I relaxed a little and looked at them. "How much do you know about my past?" I asked.

The middle Fate - Atropos, if I've got my mythology right - tilted her head to the side. "You reached the age of sixteen, but the Great Prophecy remained unfulfilled. Many demigods died. The Lord of Time won by default. You were sent back by the Lord of Time, creating two universes. Beyond that, we know nothing."

I nodded slowly. "Will I still be the Child of the Great Prophecy?"

They nodded. "Yes. It is what you came back for, is it not?"

"Among other things." I ran a hand through my hair distractedly. "I want to be able to save the others who died before the Great Prophecies completion. Also, I need a way to travel between worlds so I can help the Olympians and the Last Alliance."

"That might be arranged." They said slowly. "But there'll be a price."

"Isn't there always?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and a slightly nostalgic smile.

They chuckled. "There is a domain that has been unclaimed for eons. We believe you would be able to claim it. It would allow you to travel between worlds."

I gaped at them. "You mean like a god, domain." I said.

"Of course." They replied smoothly.

I resisted the urge to start pacing. "Why do you want me to be a god? What do you get out of it?"

"That domain borders ours. Because it has gone untended for so long, we have been forced to deal with some of the duties ourselves. If you become the god of that domain, we won't have to deal with it any more."

"I can't until I'm sixteen, otherwise I won't be able to fulfil the Great Prophecy." I pointed out. "I need to be able to travel between worlds before then."

"We will sort out your travel arrangements until you become a god." They said. "But you must become a god on your sixteenth birthday, and if you die before then, you will be transformed upon your death."

I hesitated. "What about being able to save people who died before my sixteenth birthday? I want to be able to save them too."

They stared at me for a minute as though measuring me, before inclining their heads. "Very well. We will give you the freedom to act independently of Fate, to change things as you will. But be warned, although this means you could cause a life to be saved, you could also cause a life to be lost. We will also get you transportation to the world you come from. In return, you will one day become a god and take up duties that we would otherwise have to deal with. You will do this either on your sixteenth birthday after the conclusion of the Great Prophecy or upon your death, should your life end prematurely. Do we have an accord?"

The words hung in the air between us, their weight almost tangible as I weighed up my options. "We do." I decided. The air around us became thick with power, with the sense of a promise made, and I got the feeling what I had just agreed to was more binding than swearing on the river Styx. The thought should have scared me, but instead I felt comforted. Even if I died, I would still be able to help them, even if from afar. They would still have a chance.

The power convulsed around me, and I found myself on my knees. The middle Fate stood in front of me and hung a locket around my neck. "This is the symbol of your freedom from Fate. It will not come off of your neck until your death, and cannot be used to strangle you." She then placed her bony hand on my head and my scalp began to tingle briefly. "A reminder of your past, and your promise." Finally, she knelt down so she was level with me and placed her hands on my temples. "A gift to you, to help you find your path," she said, and a moment later I gasped breathlessly as all my childhood memories rushed to the forefront of my mind with amazing clarity. Everything I lived until I was sixteen years old replayed itself in front of my eyes.

The Fate removed her hands from my head and I slumped down immediately. Moving quickly, the Fates packed up the blue string - Luke's string - and began to shut the fruit stand down. "Your mind is now protected." The Fates informed me as they were packing up. "The gods and to some extent satyrs, will only be able to read the parts of your mind that are not related to your time travel. It will be like those parts of your mind aren't there to those who look inside your head. This includes any emotions a satyr might read. As for your dimension-travel device, it will be ready in a couple of months. It takes time to put together something so powerful." Then, as though they were never there, they were gone.

I got up off my knees slowly, feeling off-balance. That hadn't gone like I expected it to. Granted, I have no idea what I expected, but whatever I expected, it wasn't that. Still feeling out of it, I staggered back across the highway, nearly getting run over in the process, to re-join Chiron.

"Mr Jackson, are you alright?" Chiron asked worriedly as I came up beside him. "Fine." I said bemusedly. "I'm fine."

"Your hair now has a streak of white in it." He pointed out.

"It does?" I yelped, running my fingers through my fringe and pulling it down into my eyes. Sure enough, the white streak in my hair was back, the one I'd got when I was Hyperion's plaything. "Huh."

At that moment the driver yelled triumphantly as he pulled a blackened piece of metal out of the engine. "Everyone back on board!" He shouted. "We're up and running!" We climbed on and the bus started moving again. I stared out of the window, content to just bask in the surreal experience. Chiron, however, was more than a little curious and concerned.

"Mr Jackson, what did they tell you?" Chiron asked.

I fingered the white lock in my hair. "They said that this was a reminder." I said. My hand drifted down to the locket I had been given. "They said that this was a symbol of my freedom from Fate."

"Freedom from Fate." Chiron whispered, looking rattled. "Are you sure that's what they said?"

I nodded solemnly. Chiron looked away, clearly thinking about something important. I left him alone to think, returning to my own thoughts. This deal with Fate gave me another advantage, aside from foreknowledge. Slowly but steadily, I was stacking the decks in my favour. Kronos wouldn't know what hit him.

The bus slowed as it reached our stop, and I led Chiron off the vehicle and towards my mom's apartment.

* * *

The Gods of Olympus watched with a mixture of curiosity, worry, and boredom as the twelve-year-old was called to talk to the Fates. Athena watched the gods rather than the screen, finding their reactions far more telling. Zeus was glaring at everything with venom, and had been since the child's display of power over water on the roof late last night. Poseidon, on the other hand, was doing an excellent job of appearing bored, except for his hands which were clenched far too tightly around the armrests of his throne. Dionysus, Hephaestus, Artemis, Hera, Demeter and Ares were bored. Hermes was looking at the scene with a mixture of pain and defeat, knowing Percy Jackson's potential role in his son's life. Apollo was staring at the scene intensely, his gift of foresight as the god of prophecies undoubtedly showing him something interesting. Aphrodite was planning something for the heroes love life.

Zeus growled, frustrated with their inability to hear anything that was being said. "What do they find so fascinating about your brat, brother?"

"I would advise you not to call my son a brat, brother." Poseidon replied, the picture of calm. Only the slight tensing of his body gave away his anger. Zeus, of course, didn't notice.

"You call him your son? You haven't even claimed him." Zeus scoffed.

"Claiming him will heighten his demigod scent." Poseidon replied. "I will wait until he is in Camp Half-Blood, till he is beyond the reach of monsters, before exposing him to such danger."

"Or maybe," Zeus began, "that is simply an excuse so you don't have to claim the brat yet, because you don't want him. Simply an unwanted side effect of having an affair."

Poseidon's eyes flashed and he stood to his full height, Zeus mirroring his actions. "I care about my son, _brother._ "

"Well unless your _thief_ of a son returns my bolt -" was as far as the King of the Gods got before Poseidon grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the ground. "You will not harm him." Poseidon seethed, recognising the threat Zeus was going to issue.

"Hey, look, Percy's audience with the Fates is over." Apollo said from his throne in an attempt to break them apart. Poseidon let go reluctantly, returning his attention to his son, watching in concern as Percy staggered back across the highway, apparently in shock. Athena briefly watched the boy as he made his way back to Chiron in one of his disguises before continuing to watch the other gods.

"We have sound again." Hermes noted absently as Chiron and Percy's voice became audible.

"Why?" Dionysus groaned. "I'm going to have to listen to the brat enough when he gets to Camp."

"They said that this was a reminder." The boy on screen said, referring to the new streak of white in his hair. His hand crept down to the locket resting on his chest, and Apollo let out a startled gasp. "They said that this was a symbol of my freedom from Fate."

The room exploded into murmurs as the Olympians debated the meaning of what the boy said, with four exceptions. Apollo, who was trying to focus on the future, Zeus, who was sat silently glaring into space, Poseidon who was doing the same but with worry for his son rather than anger, and Athena, who surveyed the chaos around her without really paying attention.

Whoever the boy was, and whatever he might grow up to do, Athena had the feeling it was going to be interesting. Perhaps she should keep a closer eye on the son of the sea god. There was always the chance that he wouldn't turn out like his father, after all.

* * *

 **I compressed the first and second chapters into one, for anyone who was confused, because the second chapter was really short. That makes this the third, originally fourth, but now the third chapter.**

 **Please, please review. It seriously makes my day when people review, even when it's only, like, three words long.**

 **Enjoy the chapter, Shib. :)**


	4. Chapter 4 - Mother And The Pig

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Chapter 4 - Mother And The Pig**

I led Chiron out of the elevator and down the hall to the apartment that, right now, Gabe would be playing poker in with some of his buddies. I cursed myself for not remembering sooner that Gabe would still be alive at this point; in all honesty, thanks to Fate refreshing my memories, I'd taken the route home (and I use the word loosely) without even thinking about it. Mom wouldn't be home from work yet either, so Chiron and I would have to put up with Gabe's presence until she showed up. It would only be ten minutes or so, but that was ten minutes too long near Gabe for my liking.

I kicked open the door once I unlocked it, knowing it wouldn't open unless shoved thanks to all the crap on the floor. My nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell hit me - I'd apparently forgotten how bad it was - I stepped in gingerly.

Glancing back at Chiron apologetically, I said, "You can wait out here if you'd rather." Chiron shook his head in the negative, looking admirably unaffected by the stench, though I noticed his eyes flicking from the mess to me and back when he thought I wasn't looking.

He followed me in as I pushed open the door to 'my' room, dumping my bag on the bed and casually grabbing Gabe's boots off the windowsill, chucking them out into the hall where they landed with a loud thump.

"Boy!" Gabe yelled from the table. "What was that?!" I rolled my eyes, noting that Chiron had his 'deduction' face on. What he could possibly learn from Gabe's mess, I have no idea.

"Your boots!" I hollered back. I knew I was just pissing him off, but to be honest I didn't give a damn. I have faced down armies of monsters; one mortal bully not only no longer bothered me, but made me want to grind his face in the ground while reminding him that I was more important than he'd ever be.

So my humility might have faded over the years. Not that I liked having the world on my shoulders (figuratively speaking, for the most part) but I could at least admit that it was.

Gabe came stomping down the hallway, stopping suddenly as he spotted Chiron before glaring rudely. "Who're you?" He demanded.

"Rude." I chided. "He's my Latin teacher, wanted to talk to mom about something."

The walrus switched to glaring at me, his small mind apparently losing interest in Chiron. "She's out." He growled.

"I hadn't noticed, thanks for that deduction Sherlock." I snarked, sarcasm dripping from my words.

"Whatever." It wasn't any fun when the person I was trying to annoy was stupid enough to not notice when I insulted him. "Got any cash?" I caught Chiron looking at me sharply, wearing an expression as close to appalled as he'd allow himself to get.

"Not a penny." I said cheerfully, having handed all the money I had on me to a guy playing a guitar at the bus station. Chiron had looked surprised and bemused at the time; he'd probably figure out why I'd done it now.

"Liar." Gabe said darkly, eyes narrowing. "Used a twenty to get here. Got six, seven bucks in change."

"Nope." I said, watching with amusement as Gabe began to turn a beer-and-anger-fuelled red. "Gave it to some guy playing at the station."

Gabe lumbered forward threateningly, or as threateningly as he could. "Lying brat!" Seeming to completely forget that a _teacher_ was in the room - for gods sake, how dim could you get? - he swung a heavy fist down at me. I rolled lightly out of the way - even as an adult who could hands-down beat any mortal in a contest of strength, not to mention a few gods, I'd never been bulky - and bounced on the balls of my feet as the walrus stumbled and nearly fell.

"Oops, missed me." Gods, this was almost fun. I really needed to get out more ... then again, I never did get a chance to pay Gabe back for everything, since mom turned him into stone.

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson, brain boy." Gabe spat. Chiron moved forward, about to interfere, but he didn't get the chance.

The words brought back every time Gabe had tried to 'teach' me something, in great detail thanks to the Fates' little trick of refreshing my memories. My eyes narrowed in rage as I remembered the times Gabe had trapped me and made me bleed, when it felt like lines of fire had been carved into my skin, when I moved and something _shifted_ inside of me that I knew was not supposed to be broken.

With an audible crack and loud cries from the other apartments, the sprinkler system burst on. My hands were clenched into shaking fists, burning with the desire to punch the pig as hard as I could. Right then, I didn't care that putting all my strength behind a punch like that could kill him; I just wanted him _gone._ Preferably as permanently as possible.

* * *

Chiron grew more and more concerned the more he learnt about Percy Jackson. Especially his home life.

He was no stranger to child abuse; people feared differences, and demigods were practically the definition of the word. Not to mention that the children of the gods did not have the best of luck, as a whole. Still, it never failed to hit him hard; after so many years alive, after guiding children so long, the idea of not helping them, giving them what they need, was almost incomprehensible to him. (Almost, because he'd spent years in the world of Greek Mythology and the gods know that they never appreciate anything till it's gone, including family. Too many lonely children bitter beyond their years had passed through Hermes cabin and never been claimed for Chiron to maintain his illusions.)

The stench had easily hit him as the door opened and Chiron soon understood why Percy had said that he could wait outside. He had quickly surmised that the mortal was there for the sole purpose of protecting Percy with his disgusting scent - he certainly wasn't there for his charms, good looks or, judging from the way he'd wanted Percy to give him money, cash. He was also probably abusive, given the flippancy with which he moved to hit Percy when there was a stranger present. Chiron thought sadly of what most likely happened behind closed doors to both the boy and his mother, although most likely neither knew of the other's pain.

Percy's deliberate needling of the man was unusual in most cases of abuse, Chiron mused thoughtfully as he recalled Percy insulting the man. Either victims were completely downtrodden, rebelled when the abuser was not present and likely wouldn't know, or escaped from the abuser entirely. They didn't usually antagonise the abuser with frequent insults and, if Chiron was correct, deliberately giving money away that he would have been bullied into giving up otherwise. Percy's actions made a lot more sense from the perspective of making sure that Gabe didn't get anything from him.

Still, he could admit that right now he wasn't particularly interested in the whys and wherefores of Percy's behaviour; he was much more concerned with the way that the demigod looked like he was restraining himself from killing the mortal. With one simple sentence the mortal - whatever his name was - seemed to have made the son of Poseidon (because realistically, what else could he be?) angry enough to unintentionally drench this apartment with water and probably a number of other apartments too. Not to mention the death glare the stormy-eyed boy was fixing the step-father with.

"Percy." He pushed forward, wishing that there wasn't quite this much waste on the floor. "Percy, calm down." The child looked at him then, and Chiron felt a shiver of foreboding sweep across him again. This boy ... was _powerful._ Almost godly. His eyes had shifted colour almost completely in the last few minutes to a darker and stormier colour as Percy got angry, and looking at him now, Chiron could almost understand why Zeus was so afraid of his brother's children. This was not someone who'd accept the usual excuses that the gods tended to give.

"Percy." He said again, paying no attention to the mortal who was swearing and storming out of the apartment. The boy watched him go, rather like a cat would watch a bird fly off, Chiron thought, but whatever he was thinking Percy didn't move to attack. Once the front door slammed behind the repulsive mortal, everything seemed to go out of Percy all at once; his shoulders didn't slump, but he gave the impression of being smaller somehow, and the water flow slowed before tapering off entirely.

The boy looked at Chiron, and the teacher absently noted that Percy's eyes had already shifted colour again. They weren't happy, not by a long shot, but they no longer held the hue of a storm about to break. "Sorry about that." The boy apologised, flashing an easy grin. Chiron could almost see the mask slide over the boy's face, and he felt another pang of sadness. Percy Jackson was a child who'd learned how to hide his feelings, and that almost hurt more than knowing that the boy had suffered.

"Not at all, Mr Jackson." Chiron said easily, his own mask taking over and hiding his immediate thoughts and feelings. "But our current location seems rather unsuitable, and I suspect the building will be evacuated."

Percy glanced up at the sprinklers, expression inscrutable. "Why did the sprinkler's break like that?" He asked, but Chiron could tell that the boy already at least suspected the answer.

"You recall our discussion the other night?" Chiron asked in reply. Percy nodded, eyes distant.

"The water on the roof." He murmured, and the teacher nodded slightly in confirmation. Percy shook those thoughts off, like a dog coming out of water. "I know a café with outside tables that Mom walks past to get back - we can wait out there for her if you'd like." When Chiron nodded his agreement to the plan, Percy led the way out of the door, glad to be seeing the back of that apartment once again.

* * *

We sat at a table next to the café just round the corner, Chiron sipping slowly at the cup of tea he'd had me fetch from the crowded counter. I'd politely declined having anything, not feeling particularly hungry. For some reason, seeing New York whole and relatively undamaged was playing havoc with my memories of it being half-destroyed the day Olympus fell - I couldn't help but remember the screams. I was glad I had a chance to make sure that it didn't happen here, glad that I had the chance to give some version of my family a happier ending, but sometimes I wished I could just forget. In so many ways, I was just tired, at the thought of having to take up arms again.

It was almost enough to make me want to pack my bags and move to Alaska, but I doubt the Fates would allow me to escape so easily and my fatal flaw was still personal loyalty, after all. As much as a nice peaceful life sounded appealing, I knew that I wouldn't be able to rest properly while worrying about all the people I'd abandoned.

Chiron broke me out of my thoughts when he began to speak. "Mr Jackson, may I ask what is troubling you so?"

I looked up (and damn being twelve to hell anyway) into his eyes, which were looking at me with their usual mixture of concern and compassion. It reminded me so sharply of my Chiron that my breath caught in my chest for a second. I ducked my head and stared determinedly at the table, struggling to reign in my emotions. If I ever met the Athena of my world again, I was going to strangle her for getting me to do this. Going back like this was either going to be the best or worst thing that I ever did, and personally I was leaning toward the latter. There were so many ways for me to screw up, and I knew that I would have to plan carefully to avoid accidentally condemning the gods.

Planning was never my forte. The only plans that worked for me were crazy stupid and nearly killed me.

"I'm fine." I answered finally, not wanting to tell the truth and unable to think of a believable lie.

Chiron cleared his throat and I heard creaking as he leaned forward. It was probably so I would look at him, but I refused to oblige. After a moment, he spoke anyway.

"In my experience, Mr Jackson, people who are fine rarely have eyes so sad." His voice was calm; neither accusatory nor comforting, just a simple statement of fact with a gentle patience that should have seemed patronising, but somehow wasn't. He was a teacher first and foremost, after all; not an enemy, not a friend. Someone who would tell you the truth no matter how much it hurts if that was a lesson you needed to learn.

My eyes burned, but I didn't let tears fall. I hadn't cried in years, but now I felt as if the waterworks were going to start any second. What the bloody hell was wrong with me? Could I really be so affected by simply returning to the past and being faced with everything that I failed to save originally?

... On second thought, I'd have to be pretty bloody cold to be unaffected. That didn't really make me feel better about wanting to cry. Didn't exactly fit with my twelve-year-old personality, and Chiron had probably picked up enough strange things from me already.

"What would I have to be sad about?" I asked, probably sounding a little sarcastic and a little bitter and maybe a little angry. Damn it, but my emotions were so far out of whack that it wasn't even vaguely amusing. I'd never been particularly good at dealing with my emotions (case in point - Annabeth) and I mostly dealt with things by blowing up monsters. Great for stress relief, not so much for mental health.

"Perseus." He said, and my head snapped up as a scowl formed, opening my mouth to snap at him to _not call me that,_ but he continued before I got the chance to tear into him. "What did that repulsive mortal do to hurt you?"

Those memories were far easier to shake off now, and they didn't faze me at all. I snapped my mouth shut and glared for a moment, before the corner of my mouth twitched in the beginnings of a resigned smile. "You knew I'd look at you if you called me Perseus." I accused grumpily.

Chiron inclined his head slightly, amusement evident in his face. "Most people forget to avoid eye contact when annoyed."

I pulled a face and succumbed to my childish side, (something that I'd only mostly grown out of) sticking my tongue out at the trainer of heroes. He chuckled, and I went back to looking at the pedestrians to see if my mom was back yet.

"I never understood why mom put up with that piece of trash anyway." I grumbled under my breath. And it was true, I never did. Sure, his scent was disgusting enough to disguise my scent - during the holidays, but I spent most of my time in a _boarding school,_ far away from Gabe-the-stinky. I honestly didn't get why mom needed him, and it wasn't something we'd ever had a chance to properly discuss. Beyond getting rid of him, we didn't talk about him at all.

I wondered if I could find out why, this time around, or if me asking questions would make mom cry and me feel guilty.

We fell into another silence, this one slightly more comfortable than the last. Chiron didn't press me about Gabe, and thankfully I didn't start crying. I really doubt I could have handled the embarrassment.

It wasn't more than five minutes before my mom came down the road, looking more than surprised to see me there. Nevertheless she ambushed me in a hug as soon as I stood up to greet her. I hugged back just as tightly, suddenly not embarrassed at all. I had missed mom, and I didn't care who knew it. She was one person who had always believed in me.

"Percy!" She said, sounding concerned, relieved and happy all at once. "What are you doing here? And what happened to your hair?" She added when she pulled back to get a better look at me.

"Gabe is a pig and interfering old ladies, respectively." I answered without a beat. "You have a good year?"

She huffed an exasperated laugh and hugged me again. "I missed you." She held out a bag of sweets, which I took eagerly.

"Blue?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You bet." Mom winked at me, smiling. "Don't eat it all at once."

I completely ignored her in favour of rummaging through the bag. Who cares if I'm too old for sweets, these were _blue._ And from mom, which made them automatically awesome purely by association.

Her gaze slid over to Chiron who was watching the scene with a polite smile on his face, and a worried frown crept onto her forehead. I hid a worried frown of my own; I could guess how this conversation was going to go. With a sigh, I decided to at least get this over with. "Hey mom, meet Mr Brunner. He was my Latin teacher this year."

I couldn't actually remember if Chiron had mentioned that his name wasn't Mr Brunner yet, so I went with his fake name on the safe side. Better than calling him Chiron if that wasn't something I'd been told yet.

"It's nice to meet you." Mom smiled politely and held out her hand to shake, but the worry lines didn't fade completely. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all." Chiron assured her. "Not one of Percy's making, at any rate. Might I talk to you both somewhere more private?"

"Of course." Mom said, looking more concerned by the second and now shooting sideways glances at me as well. "We could go back to the apartment." Honestly, she sounded like she'd rather do anything but. Fortunately, that wasn't really an option anyway. Chiron coughed sheepishly and I put on my best innocent face.

"I suspect that won't be possible, Miss Jackson. Unfortunately, your apartment was afflicted with a slight flooding problem." Chiron explained ruefully, his eyes flicking over to me slightly. I maintained my innocent face - I totally hadn't intended to drench half the block - and pretended not to notice the subtle communication beneath the words. "Perhaps it would be possible to come to a camp I run during the summer instead? It's something of a drive, but it's very secure." He fished out a card and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hands, before looking at me, considerably paler and sadder but still determined. It hurt, to see her sad like that again, and I searched for the words to tell her that I would be all right. Before I got the chance, she spoke.

"Well, I don't see a problem with going to that camp." She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "We could take the Camaro if Gabe didn't take it when he left. I can go and check." She turned to leave but was distracted by the bundle of keys I dangled in the air between us. "Percy ..." She began slowly, "are those ...?"

"Keys to the Camaro." I said nonchalantly, tossing them gently in her direction. "I'm sure he can get a bus or something." Filching them from the front hall table had been too easy and I'd learned the benefit of having transport on hand. Besides, I dearly wanted to see Gabe's prize possession ruined and things break easily near me. There was no way I could resist.

Mom looked more than a little shocked though, and was clearly having an internal debate about lecturing me. On the one hand, stealing is wrong. On the other, transport away from the monster infested city to a place where I would be safe. Self preservation won out and Mom led the way to the car. I pretended to ignore Chiron looking at me strangely - stealing wasn't exactly a habit for me at twelve.

When we were all squeezed into the car and well on our way to camp, I broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "So is anyone going to explain what this camp is for?"

"For people like you, Percy." Mom replied distractedly. "You'll be safe there."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow. Camp Half-Blood wasn't exactly safe. Awesome, sure. Safe, slightly less so, considering the chances of being maimed in capture the flag alone. Not to mention being sent on quests, or monsters sneaking past the borders of camp, or hellhounds being invited in, or supporters of Kronos like Luke. And that was all before my sixteenth birthday when everything went to hell. After that, camp was safer than almost anywhere else - which wasn't saying much, considering the death toll.

"Safe." I said sceptically. "And you know this how?"

"Your father wanted you to go there. Please honey, just go." Mom said, desperation edging into her tone.

"My father?" I stopped faking scepticism and started faking outright disbelief instead. "You want me to go to some camp because my father recommended it twelve years ago?"

Chiron interceded. "Mr Jackson, I'm sure you recall our talk about the gods." He waited for my grudging nod before continuing. "Your father is an Olympian god. Twelve years is the blink of an eye to a being such as he, who has seen centuries pass like a long summer afternoon."

I didn't reply, looking out of the window instead. The clouds were getting darker, and the rain heavier. If things continued the same as last time despite the fact that we were headed to camp earlier, then we could expect a lightning bolt from Zeus soon.

Truth was, I did not want to go back to camp. It was a symbol of everything Greek to me, my entire heritage, good and bad - and the bad far outweighed the good. The closer I got to my past, the more I wanted to say 'aw shucks' and move to Alaska instead, even if I knew that wasn't really an option for me. I was scared of trying and failing, scared of losing more people, scared of having to fight another war.

But I'd been terrified for most of my life when it came to gods and monsters, I just never let that stop me. I wouldn't let it stop me now, either.

"Mrs Dodds." I commented out of the blue. "Will there be more like her?"

Chiron cast a serious glance at me. "I very much hope not, Mr Jackson." He said mildly. A drop of water hit the windshield, then another, and suddenly it was pouring down. I saw a flutter of movement ahead, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. "Maybe we should drive faster." I suggested uneasily, mind racing for ways to keep my experience a secret. Being a badass monster-killer at the age of twelve, while awesome, was not precisely a good idea. Logically, it would be better to avoid fights until I could plausibly say, 'oh look, that training really paid off', but the chances of us reaching camp without disaster striking was practically nil.

(Fucking Zeus and his _bloody_ lightning. Forget Gramps, if that bastard killed my mom - )

My mom didn't question me, and I felt us accelerate. From behind, I heard a long, tortured bellow. I swore and twisted in my seat to watch the road behind us, ignoring mom's admonishment. That was Pasiphae's son - what the hell was he doing here now? We were headed to Camp hours earlier, thanks to going straight to camp rather than Montauk.

Actually, unless Pasiphae's son normally travelled faster than a speeding car, he wouldn't have caught us at all if Zeus hadn't -

My eyes widened and I yelled out a warning a second too late, lunging forward from the backseat to yank the steering wheel sideways myself.

Predictably, the world went white.

* * *

 **So, another chapter. Sorry it took me a while to write, but I got a bit stuck. It probably shows in the first half.**

 **Shib. :)**


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